Saturday, March 19, 2011

I had a family fundraiser last weekend. My aunt rented a hall and put on a dinner-dance to raise money for disease research that her daughter had before she died. I was excited to see my family, but more than that I was nervous and apprehensive about the whole "dancing" aspect of it. When my cousin got married in october I was able to walk down the aisle, but once the music started playing I just sat around watching everyone else dance. I left the reception around 10pm and went back to my hotel room and cried. I was sure that saturday would just be a repeat of that night, and I was prepared with extra leave-early plans just in case.

It turns out I didn't need those plans and that - though it was hard - I was able to dance. They even played a justin bieber song! (!!!!!!!!) I was still nervous, and by no means was I getting down on the floor like my pre-car accident self. but I was out and moving and moving enough to make it fun. I really surprised myself that night, and even though I left early anyway (a tad sore), I went to bed with a smile on my face.

The world works in mysterious ways, I think. I spent three weeks thinking that I would forever have a painful limp and not be able to move. And then over the weekend I moved and danced more than I've been able to since the summer. Sometimes things can surprise you. Sometimes you can surprise yourself.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Last week was spring break! It's been quite a while since I've updated, but the adventures and emotions of my spring break trip to NYC / HVN / BOS provide the perfect opportunity to write again. I have a lot of complicated feelings post-break, and hopefully this will help sort them out.

First of all, spring break was so much fun. I went out to the East Coast with my boyfriend in order to visit some graduate / law schools. We started off in New York City. It was my first time ever in NYC, and we did all the touristy things - Times Square, Top of the Rock, Bus tour of the city, etc. I loved it.

And being in NYC, we walked a lot too. We went shopping on 5th Ave, strolling past several blocks at a time. Of course, I had to take a lot of breaks. But we were even able to walk back to our hotel and relax later on in the day. Once we got to Boston, the walking was even harder. Downtown Boston has sidewalks with a bunch of grates, and I refuse to step on the grates (...) and instead of sidewalks, Cambridge has beautiful red-brick walkways that were laid in the 1800s; they're gorgeous but so uneven and impossible to walk on! Trying to walk around and visit schools was a challenge, as the bricks really tested my strength and coordination. My boyfriend was very patient and would take breaks with me, but it is so discouraging having to sit in the cold every couple of minutes. I was able to do so much on spring break - I even walked ~.5 mile from a metro stop one night! - but since I am getting better, I just want to do everything. To be back to normal, and unfortunately that's not happening.

I loved our vacation, and I am really proud of myself for all that I was able to do. Even with the aches and soreness, I was able to see a lot and I feel like I grew a bit too (especially on the days when I had to navigate the cities by my broken, crippled self). I was brave, and it paid off.

But at the same time, these are places that I want to go and live! How wonderful would it be to live in NYC or Boston (or New Haven..?) and be part of everything that's going on there! I used to dream about going to the East Coast after graduation and getting a job and just being part of everything. I know that those things are not unattainable for me now, but they're harder. Just being there was hard. Seeing people active and walking around - I get so jealous. I used to be like that, I used to be able to do that too. I would kill to be able to walk like that again. But, for the first time in my recovery, it's starting to feel like that's impossible. Like this is it.

It's a miserable feeling, being in a place you're so excited to see and experience, and being so incredibly limited. It makes you feel helpless. I know I should be proud because I was able to walk as much as I did (something that really was impossible only a few months ago), but my leg hurt so much and I took a break every block or so and it was just so discouraging. I want to be able to walk, to be normal. I want to be able to wear high heels and go out like the other girls were at night. To run and catch a metro before it leaves. To go shopping without having to sit down in every store.

Looking at Boston and New York has been a whirlwind of emotions; these are places that I want to go to and to live in. But at the same time, they're so big and I'm still so broken. I know I've come a long way and I should just be proud. The thing that this trip is made me realize the most is that maybe this is permanent. Maybe this is it.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

In class today someone asked me how I feel about my scars, and after thinking about it I realize I am unsatisfied with the answer I gave. True, my scars are both "cool" and "annoying" - especially the ones that are really sensitive and painful to touch - but they are more than that. After thinking about it, I realize that I place a lot of emotional value on my scars. They are important to me and they have become a part of how I see myself now. My scars remind me of everything I've been through, not only the pain and suffering, but also the strength and recovery evoked within me. I'm proud of my scars, just like I'm proud of myself. My scars are a part of me, and a constant reminder that though I might be easily broken, I am not and will not be defeated.

Monday, December 6, 2010

So, I've had my nails done since my cousin's wedding at the end of October. A frivolous waste of money, but it's girly and cute and I like getting them done. Of course, since my car accident I don't drive - both because, well, my car was totaled in the accident, and because I am terrified of getting behind the wheel. So the simple process of getting my nails done transforms into a hullabaloo, with me asking for rides from my (predominately male) friends and having them sit around waiting for me at the salon for an hour before driving me home... Now, my friends are very sweet, and even when I ask them terrible favors like this they never flinch or flail, but it's hard for me to burden them with such an obnoxious favor every three weeks. At the same time, it's hard for me to function when my nails start to grow out.

I found myself in this predicament one night in the middle of last week. The nail place I frequent closes at 8pm, and I had decided I would just go get the acrylic taken off so as to not burden my peers in the future. I organized for a ride, but something came up, the time got away, and I was left by myself, carless, afraid of driving, on the verge of ripping my nails off because they were driving me insane. It was 730pm, so I wouldn't have time to get anything done before they closed. I called the salon anyway, and asked if I could come in. They said yes, so I called a cab and a $13 cab fare later, I was there.

Of course, by the time I arrived it was nearly 8pm, so I couldn't just ask them to take my nails off. I decided to get them redone, since they were really kindly staying open late for me anyway. I was very proud of myself for organizing the adventure on my own - I know that there's nothing that exciting about taking a taxi, but I made my own decision, made the phone calls, and was able to more-or-less fend for myself, something that has been lacking since the accident. At the salon, I got a sparkly Christmas red color and trimmed my nails down shorter. The whole thing took about 45 minutes, and I was ready to go as they were turning off the lights. I grabbed my phone to call for a cab to pick me up, but instead the salon techs offered me a ride home. They said they were heading in my direction anyway, and that they would be happy to drop me off. Now, this offer might have just come from the fact that they didn't want to wait around for the cab to show up. But I think they truly took interest (or pity) in me and wanted to help me home. Maybe a little of both, but I climbed in the back of their car and they dropped my off at my apartment by 9pm.

I'm sharing this story because of its indirect affiliation with my car accident. A year ago, I would have just showed up at the salon, got my nails done in the early evening, and headed back to my place myself. Now my whole life has changed, and it takes my guts, a taxi-cab, and the kindness of salon techs to achieve one small girly and cute hobby I have. At least, at the end of the whole process, I have sparkly red nails.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

I am thankful for my boyfriend, who has helped me endlessly through this whole ordeal, who came to my rescue that day that I crashed and held my hand at my bedside while I could not move, who has held me every time I've cried, who has not left me since.

I am thankful for my family, who put their lives on hold to take care of me this summer, who kept me happy and together as I went through the hardest time of my life, who put up with my anger and frustrations of healing, who has guided me through my recovery, who is always there for me.

I am thankful for my body, which has been healing tirelessly since May and still has a long way to go.

Monday, November 22, 2010

WALKING: Well, it's been an exciting past few days! Last week I was leaving one of my classes on my scooter. A girl walked out with me and asked me how long I had to stay on the scooter. Normally when I am asked this question, I explain that it's only temporary and that I just have to rebuild up strength in my leg. But this time when she asked, I realized that I probably COULD walk to class... That I am using my scooter as a crutch because walking is hard / slow, but that I should be walking. And really, I should. Walking is not going to get easier the longer I stay in my scooter. I need to get up and practice for that to happen. At the beginning of the semester I was embarrassed because I had to stay in a scooter; then I realized I was embarrassed because I was healthy enough to walk, but I was clinging to my scooter! I told the girl that i hoped to start walking soon, then went full-bunny (the fastest speed) back to my apartment. i dropped off my scooter, wrapped up my leg in its leg brace, and started walking to class.

During my walk, I realized that maybe I should have just taken the scooter. Going home before going to my next class added another two blocks to the already lengthy walk. However, I was determined, and slowly and ardently I made my way all the way to class. My boyfriend and I are in that class together, so he was quite surprised when I showed up on my feet (and also 20 minutes late)! I was so proud of myself - I still am! I cried a little bit when I sat down in my chair. I did it.

I walked to my other class that day too. Again, I was pretty late to class, but I made it - and that's what matters. Today I was so excited to walk to my classes, to get out there and get my leg working! But then it rained - no, poured - all day today, so scooter it was. Hopefully it's dry tomorrow and I can walk to class then.

SCAR MASSAGES: In therapy last Friday my therapists took my measurements, meaning that they measured the range of motion in my knee and ankle. My knee is almost back to normal, but my ankle is still pretty tight. I explained that when moving my ankle side to side it doesn't hurt per se, but I can feel the skin tugging and that's uncomfortable. I thought it was just because there are two HUGE scars running down both sides of my ankle now, but apparently the tugging and tightness that I feel is from scar tissue built up underneath the skin that has latched on to my bones, the metal, everything in that area. If I can get the scar tissue broken up, then my ankle will be much freer. Sounds easy, right? Unfortunately to break up the scar tissue requires heavy-duty pressure massages.

I lay on either my back or my stomach, and the therapist takes special lotion (I think it's vaseline) and rubs down my scars. At first I thought it was just to relieve some of the sensitivity I still feel in my leg, but then they pressed harder and deeper, and it was so painful! In the middle of the gym area I was squealing and almost in tears! Unlike a back or neck massage where pressing hard hurts but actually just feels good, this one just hurt. After what felt like forever of pain and torture, it ended and my ankle felt better than it has felt since the accident. It was so much looser! The scar tissue is apparently surrounding my ankle and muscles - the right, left, and back by my calf. The massage loosens its grip and so hopefully it will start breaking away. Even though it's really painful, the massage is definitely my favorite part of therapy.

LEG JACUZZIS: Today in therapy I was soooo sleepy when I got there (but, c'mon, the session STARTS at 7am!). Instead of the normal morning warmups today, the therapist sat me next to a little bathtub where I put my leg in it to let the heat loosen it up. What a pleasant way to start therapy! Of course, right afterward I had another one of those leg massages.

SMELLS: The last update, and this one's just for fun. I just put a new scent in my room fragrance WallFlower from Bath & Body Works. It's a Christmas scent, so now my whole apartment smells like mint chocolate chip! Mmmmmm... <3